


Ghost In The Sheets

by dark_pulse



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, PWP, Sorta? It goes with another fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-22
Updated: 2014-03-22
Packaged: 2018-01-16 15:22:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1352302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dark_pulse/pseuds/dark_pulse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You want me? </p>
<p>I walk down the hallway. </p>
<p>You like it? The bedroom's my runway.</p>
<p>Slap me. </p>
<p>I'm pinned to the doorway.</p>
<p>Kiss. </p>
<p>Bite.</p>
<p>
  <i>Fuck me.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost In The Sheets

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is literally just Superbat porn. They're just going at it in different places like they can't get enough of each other (they can't HA). It goes along with another fic I'm writing where Bruce mentions "that week" and Clark starts laughing. This is the week he's referring to, so this fic will be a few parts? But honestly, it'll just stay porn with some bits eluding to the upcoming fic, but that's about it. Short scenes of porn. 
> 
> Thank you to Sparky for betaing this, and supporting my insanity.

Clark fucked like he had all the time in the world, hard, deep thrusts that made Bruce give full bodied shudders he couldn’t be bothered to control even if he could. Bruce was just trying to find something to hold on to and keep his moans down.

Everything about Clark was big. It felt more so when they were alone, stripped down like this; His hands felt huge against Bruce’s hips, one hand sliding down Bruce’s side, stopping to squeeze his hip, while the other hand pressed both of Bruce’s hands in front of him, against his desk.

It was lunch time, Bruce had come in to try and get a little work done—he had paperwork, he had to make face time with his employees, but Clark—Yes _Clark_ , who easily charmed his secretary to an early lunch, and promised her Bruce would get his paperwork done. Damn that sweet country boy routine. Bruce would have rolled his eyes if he didn’t see the glint in Clark’s.

And now here he was, stripped completely naked in a matter of seconds—it could have been record time, but he had been a little more focused on the hand palming his cock and the dark look in Clark's eyes as he took off his glasses. Clark’s voice had been low, whispering in Bruce’s ear as he edged his lover towards his desk, squatting briefly to lift Bruce by his thighs and ease him up onto the desk, grinning wolfishly when Bruce wound his legs around his hips, tugging Clark in by his tie for a steamy kiss that left Bruce a little breathless. Clark was in a _mood_ , already heavy and hard in his slacks, and he had pressed insistently between Bruce’s legs.

Bruce had already been a little gone himself, mildly embarrassed by how easily Clark could get him going, but Clark’s _voice_ , damn it. It was the way he dropped the timbre when he said how hard he was going to fuck Bruce—he was bent over faster than usual.

Clark was all control and precision with every deep stroke, mindful of his grip, mindful of every hitch of breath, aware of every deep moan against skin. Sweat was sliding down Bruce’s bare back and Clark slid his hand down Bruce’s back, watching in delight as Bruce’s back arched slightly, goosebumps prickling along the trial of Clark’s fingers. He dragged Bruce up, pressed his shivering back against his front, dug soft kisses into Bruce’s shoulder, dragging his lips up Bruce’s sweaty neck to meet his lips in a kiss that had a shiver running down his spine.

“More,” Clark murmured against Bruce’s lips, giving a sharp thrust. Bruce sucked in a deep breath, letting Clark move him, bringing his leg up to bend on the desk, opening him up, letting Clark sink in _deeper_ somehow, tremors shaking Bruce's thighs. Clark waited a moment, waited until Bruce’s breathing evened out slightly, waited until his lover was making little hip rotations back, asking silently for more before driving his hips forward. Clark picked up the pace immediately, snapping his hips hard into Bruce’s warmth; the sweet, tight friction making sparks of pleasure shoot through him.

Bruce's fingers were scrambling for purchase, looking for something to grab, eventually just clenching his hands into fists. Heat was pooled in his belly, coiling tight, his body aching for release. Clark was close too, Bruce could feel it in the tenseness in the fingers pressing into his hips and the sharp strokes slamming against his prostate.

They couldn't afford to be loud, even if Clark would hear anyone heading towards the office. Bruce kept his lips clamped tight as he moaned his pleasure, fists clenching rhymically against his desk as Clark stilled, his own climax filling the room with a heavy silence.

“Did you... at least bring me lunch,” Bruce murmured, sucking in slow breaths. Clark's hips shifted slightly as he pulled out, nudging Bruce to turn around so he could lift his lover onto the desk once more and slot himself between Bruce's legs.

“Clark?” Bruce groused against swollen lips. Clark sighed softly, moving to trail down the side of Bruce's neck, kissing away sweat, his hands pacing up and down Bruce's thighs. He was silent, basking in his lover's warmth and scent, and Bruce could feel that, could feel how Clark still needed him, still _desired him_ , even as the sweat on their bodies cooled.

He shut his eyes and combed his hand through Clark's dark hair, basking in tender attention until the world called for them again.


End file.
